


Disenchanted

by Vanilla_Ella



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9304271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Ella/pseuds/Vanilla_Ella
Summary: It was a lie when they smiled and said you won't feel a thing.(Inspired by a popular fic from another fandom that destroyed my life. I decided this fandom wasn't hurting enough so...)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andy_Bee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andy_Bee/gifts).



> What have I become? I'm sorry...
> 
> This is dedicated to my sweet and dearest friend Andy. You're so strong and so sweet to everyone around you. I could never hope to be as good at writing as you, but I'm trying.
> 
> Thank you for being the sun to light up my world. I love you so very much, my fren <333

Thranduil's quiet as he lugs his bags behind him, following his father through the spacious, empty halls. It's strange, to think that this is his new home. 

Of course, it's not weird because of the sheer enormity of it, or the foreign looking pastel white walls or dark marble tiles.

It's strange because he's still in shock, still tastes the white of confusion in his mouth. He still can't quite process why or how they've moved from the east coast to the west so quickly. Then again, his father did have his connections.

"Choose any room you like, love," Oropher says softly when they've finished unloading the most of the things. Thranduil notes how his voice is still rough with the remaining sadness in his empty soul and he frowns.

"Are you alright, daddy?" 

Oropher nods silently, and his long fingers that rest against the top of his suitcase begin to tap softly as he looks around the house.

Tap, tap, tap.

It's the sound that keeps Thranduil awake at night, the soft taps on his walls and his hardwood floors. He wishes someone made soft walls, so he could find a room to sleep peacefully in without having to be awake half of the night.

"Go on, Thran," Oropher is suddenly beside the six year old, nudging him gently with his elbow. "Find a room."

Thranduil nods, and begins walking up the stairs slowly. It's a spiral staircase, the ones that make Thranduil a little nervous and dizzy to walk up. 

He can't seem to get up it fast enough, and he sighs in relief when his soft, bare feet connect with the white carpet of the living room upstairs.

There are too many halls to look through, so Thranduil chooses the first room he finds. It's nice and large, he thinks, with peachy-colored walls and a small walk-in bathroom connected to it. The delivery men quickly place his bed in the room and his dressers, but that's all to see besides a few boxes. 

He walks through the large closet that seems like it could fit hundreds of the friends he left in New York, and he quietly wonders how someone could have that many clothes to fill such a large closet.

When his eyes catch sight of the milky-white curtains that partially hide balcony doors, he's quick to push them aside and rush out once he manages to get the door open.

He dashes until his chest is pressed against the railing, his hands closed tightly around the black, thin bars that resemble vines. The sight takes his breath away.

There, laid out before him, is the spacious ocean, the sun hanging low in the sky and kissing the blanket of water with its orange-lavender tint. The waves sparkle like diamonds, and Thranduil thinks he's never seen and never will see anything more beautiful.

He's wrong.

 

••••••

 

Ten years later, Thranduil sits quietly sits on the pier, the chaffed, old, faded wood under him creaking every so often when he shifts. His legs are nearly long enough to dip his feet into the water, but it's not nearly enough to submerge them into the cool, refreshing ocean. 

He likes sitting on the pier, alone, after a visit with Dr. Bowman, and after his school work is finished. It cleanses his mind, it helps him forget.

He does hear tapping at night, and it's real. It's very real. He can't understand why his therapist doesn't understand that, even after so many years, so he's given up with trying to convince him. Thankfully, Bard doesn't bring it up often.

At least he pretends to give a crap, he thinks bitterly as he throws a pebble into the ocean. It's much more than his father seems to be trying these days, always working late and overtime just to get away from him.

He sits in silence, save the crashing of the waves on the beach, the call of the sea gulls flying about in the air.

Until he's not sitting in silence anymore.

"Hey."

He doesn't look yet, glaring at the ocean first. He hates whenever someone finds a way into his father's privately owned beach property; sometimes he wonders if people forgot how to read whenever they saw that giant white "Do Not Trespass" sign right by the entrance.

When he finally summons the strength to deal with another common human being, he turns his head. He's pretty sure what he sees stops his heart for a nanosecond.

A boy, with long golden hair that seem to be strands of sunlight pulled back in a loose braid, ocean-crystal eyes that sparkle like cerulean diamonds, and creamy skin with light peach and pink undertones sits beside him, a smile on his rosy lips.

Thranduil suddenly has no words. 

He tastes light coral shades.

"Hi," the boy tries, looking away from Thranduil to the ocean to try to make him more comfortable.

It takes a long while for Thranduil to whisper out a quiet word of greeting.

The quiet that falls on them is a little awkward, and as much as Thranduil hates it, he feels obligated to fill the silence as Dr. Bowman always tells him to. 

"I don't see you here very often," he says after a long while.

"Oh," the boy simply says.

And that's how it starts.

 

•••••••

 

The next day, Thranduil sees the boy again.

"It's warm today," is all the boy, no, Legolas, he'd told him the day before, says at first, and the older boy nods.

He looks up at the sky, smiling as he watches the seagulls fly by. 

They seem so free in the air, unattached to anything that might weigh them down. It makes Thranduil smile.

His eyes catch the burning orb in the sky for a moment, and a thought that flies trough his head seems to be spoken.

"I like it when the sun shines this brightly."

Thranduil does a double take, sees Legolas staring at him with a wide (almost knowing) grin. 

"How'd you know?"

When the other boy simply shrugs with a bashful smile as he looks down at the water below them, Thranduil catches himself staring for a few seconds longer than normal.

Legolas' eyes sparkle a happy baby blue and Thranduil can't help but feel the warmth and the coral shades grow darker.

 

•••••••

 

Fireworks are going off. They explode in vibrant fuchsia and sapphire flowers and emerald showers. 

They light up the night sky like coral warms Thranduil's heart, and the two boys sit and watch them from the pier.

Legolas' head rests on Thranduil's chest, and he feels so light compared to the usual heaviness of the older boy's heart. 

"I like the Fourth of July."

He hums in response, hands tangling in strands of sunlight as he smooths Legolas' silken hair.

"Don't you like watching how the fireworks fly and explode from the happiness of being free?"

It's that statement that makes Thranduil think Legolas caught him staring, but the younger's eyes are still enchanted by the show in the sky.

"I do," he confirms quietly.

"Don't you ever wish to be free like them?"

"Of course." The answer comes quick, plain and simple.

They're quiet for the rest of the night, simply contemplating the happy dream of being free.

 

•••••• 

 

For the next days, they see each other. Sometimes they sit beside one another. Sometimes they lie on the warm, old wood.

They talk about everything and nothing at all, simple thoughts that remind Thranduil of easier days when he didn't pay any mind to the tap tap tap of the walls or the whispers that float in the air.

Thranduil decides he likes when Legolas leans on him. The cold is chased away and replaced with something much warmer than the sunlight.

But one day, Legolas says something strange as he presses himself into Thranduil's side.

"I wish we could've always been like this."

The way he says it seems like a slip of tongue, especially with the way his eyes widen and the way he covers his mouth with his hand.

Thranduil is confused, and he tastes a murky green.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Legolas says so quickly he almost doesn't hear it.

He changes the conversation towards what his favorite fish is, but, truth be told, Thranduil's still thinking about what he said.

 

•••••••

 

"You're cool."

"Really?" Legolas grins widely as he continues to keep his eyes on the ocean. "Thank you."

Thranduil cocks his head. 

Now that he thinks about it, he notices how Legolas' eyes always gravitate towards the water.

"Why do you--?"

"Always stare at the water?" Legolas finishes, finally looking at him with a small, knowing smile.

"How did--?"

"I know what you were gonna say?" he finishes again as if it was the most predictable thing to say.

Legolas laughs at his wide eyes. 

He leans his head onto Thranduil's shoulder.

"Just look at the water with your heart. You'll see me there."

 

••••••••

 

A week later, during a rare meal shared by the two remaining Oropherions, Thranduil clears his throat a bit.

"How was your visit with Dr. Bowman today?" his father questions, voice a quiet yet firm line piercing into Thranduils ears and through his head. 

The question triggers the normal, "Fine," that always slips from his lips whenever he hears it. It used to be a lie, he hated those appointments and still hates them, but now, he can't even tell what he feels.

Maybe it's the new orange pills he was being given, or maybe it was the dark purple taste he had in his mouth whenever they were finally finished. 

They fall in silence again, with Thranduil starting to wonder if he should tell his father about the boy he met. Although he was often a very private person and kept most of his so-called "crazy" thoughts to himself, the excitement from finding a nice person, maybe even potential friend, dare he hope, was almost too much for the sixteen-year old to handle.

The question was answered when his father stood as his cellphone began ringing, rushing out of the room and hastily telling him the usual: finish up his food and could you please put our dishes in the sink? thanks. 

Thranduil almost feels disappointed but he doesn't let himself cry, only puts his chin on his hand and his elbow on the table. 

And he thinks.

 

••••••

 

Three months later, they're already best friends. They've bonded over commonalities, looks, taste in both food and music, and the fact that they're both extremely lonely with no other friends. Thranduil meets the boy every afternoon at the ocean pier. After each appointment with Dr. Bowman, he finds himself needing a real person who genuinely cares about him. Or at least, seems to.

It's one particular bad day, when the clouds hang dark in the sky and the rain pours in torrents on the ocean. What a mistake he had made, telling Bard about Legolas. Now the quack wanted to meet him.

Probably because he thinks Legolas is another one of those so-called hallucinations, he thinks bitterly. But he's real. He's real and present and here--

"Thranduil?" Although Legolas' voice had always been one of the most beautiful sounds Thranduil had ever heard, he can't shake off the fact that it sounds so strange around his name. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mumbles, collapsing on the wet boards of the pier as he keeps his eyes set on the stormy sea. "I just need some quiet."

Out of his peripheral, he sees Legolas nod, and it almost makes him regret his cold aloofness, but he needs it.

The waves crash with more power against the beach, the water of the ocean surrounding his ankles and freezing him, but he doesn't care. He's drenched in the rain already, it's not like he could get any wetter.

They sit in silence until Legolas says he has to leave.

 

••••••

 

The next day, the clouds have vanished like they were nothing but a bad dream, and the ocean laps more peacefully and slowly like it used to. But the bitter taste of the look of distrust in Bard's eyes still colors Thranduil's mouth black.

He's sitting at the kitchen bar, quietly eating his Frosted Flakes stoically as normal when his father walks in. 

To his surprise, Oropher isn't wearing one of the black, immaculate suits he always wears going to work, but he's instead in much more casual attire, a simple light blue button-up and dark colored jeans covering his long legs. 

His hair isn't tied back, which catches most of Thranduil's attention. It had been years since he last saw his father so...undone, in a way.

"Morning, Thrandy," he says quietly as he passes him, rubbing his hand through his long, silver-gold strands before entering the kitchen.

"Hey," he says quiet, suspicious. "Working today?"

"Nah, thought I could take today off," is the simple reply. It's so calm, steady. And although Thranduil would never associate the older man with anything other than those two things, it's too calm, too flat to be normal.

Then he tastes black again.

"Dr. Bowman called me last night," his father notes casually as he turns his back on Thranduil for just a moment to open the fridge.

Bullseye.

"Said something about you mentioning a friend you've made recently." Here, Oropher pauses. Thranduil watch as his hands hesitantly take hold of an apple in the fridge. A dark, blood red apple that would no doubt taste orangey-yellow.

"Yeah...I have." He finds his arms crossing in front of his chest defensively. Oropher notices it too.

His father doesn't really seem how to say it, but Thranduil hears it loud and clear.

"And, by the way, yes, he's your guys' version of real," Thranduil can't help but add a bit of the black venom in his words.

Oropher seems to sigh out the breath he'd been holding as his gaze drops to the apple twisting in his hand. "Thranduil," he says quietly. "You know I only want what's best for you.. And I'm sorry, I know this sounds insulting, but that's highly unlikely, especially considering your last....friend."

Thranduil bristles angrily at the thought of the monster with glowing blue, bloodshot eyes and screaming silent lips in his closet. "He isn't my friend!"

"But he's real to you, isn't he?" When Oropher looks at him, there's a glint in his eyes that makes the black in his mouth turn slightly murky green.

"Of course he is!" Thranduil stands up and almost sizes up with his father. He can't help the shaking of his knees or his hands or the feeling of bile rising in his throat. "You just don't understand! None of you ever understand!"

He spins sharply on his heel and begins walking out hastily, ignoring his father's calls for him back.

He quickly rushes out of the house, knowing his father would be too bothered to force himself to get out of the house. His legs make a beeline to the ocean pier.

He's somewhat relieved when he sees Legolas sitting there.

When the latter sees him, he watches how his eyes light up. "Thranduil! Hey!"

The older can't bring himself to say anything, instead collapses on the wood with an angry huff.

There's a pause. Somehow Legolas knows to be quiet for a while. "What's wrong?"

"My father," he spits, looking off to the horizon as he tries to calm himself. 1, 3, 5, 5, 7. He breathes in the familiar pattern as he counts in his head.

"Is he mad at you?" 

When he replies, he's cool blue. "Not really."

Pause.

"He thinks you aren't real."

"I know," Legolas mumbles and Thranduil feels like his eyes will bulge out of his head as he shouts, "What?!?"

"I mean," Legolas begins hastily, hands flying up. "I know you have some issues between you and your dad, but you shouldn't let it get to you."

Thranduil can't help but feel the suspiciousness rise but Legolas pays it no mind, instead lying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You know he loves you, right?"

"You can't know that."

Legolas opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but he seems to think better of it, shutting his lips tightly and looking away. Thranduil would be lying if he didn't say he missed the way the warmth left when Legolas' hand left his shoulder.

An idea lights up.

He jumps up, a wide smile on his face as he bends down and drags Legolas up to his feet.

"Come on, let me introduce you to my father!"

He's barely finished the sentence before he's tugging on his hands. 

When Legolas pulls his hands away, blue eyes wide and head shaking as nothing falls from his coral lips, Thranduil tries not to pay attention to his heart dropping.

"We...no, I-I can't--"

Thranduil can't help but narrow his eyes. "Why?" He grabs a hold of his arm and tries to pull, but Legolas seems so fast when he takes his arm back it's almost like he wasn't even holding him.

"No!" Legolas shouts this time, and Thranduil's taken aback.

He never shouts.

A moment passes and Legolas swallows.

"I..I can't show anyone except you about...myself." He looks down at his hands, gulping. They stand for a moment before Legolas drops to the ground again.

No..betrayal isn't what Thranduil tastes. Never black with his friend around. His only friend around.

Legolas wouldn't let him feel like that. Right? 

"Fathers really aren't that bad." Legolas' knees are drawn to his chest, his eyes downcast as he stares at the water.

It's only a matter of five seconds before--

"You don't understand!" Thranduil cries. "You don't understand what it's like to have him and not have him at the same time! He doesn't understand!"

Legolas' eyes are so wide and horrified. A heartbeat seems to widen the cracks in Thranduil's heart with each heavy thump, and he just wants to plunge his hand into his chest and rip it out.

He sobs so loud into his palm and runs away too quickly to hear Legolas say sadly, "But I do. I do understand."

 

•••••••

 

When Thranduil comes back, Legolas isn't there.

It goes on like that for days.

Thranduil tries to control the feeling of wanting to vomit blue until it left his system.

 

•••••••

 

It's quiet. The salty breeze blows warm against his cheeks, the gulls cry as they usually do, and the water laps cold against the beach.

These do nothing to distract him from the fact that he's alone. Again.

 

•••••••

 

"We're moving."

Thranduil's head darts up, eyes wide, uneaten bowl of cereal all but forgotten in front him. "What?"

"I got a job offer in Tokyo." The explanation is swift, detached.

Would Thranduil have reacted differently if Oropher didn't act the way he thought he should? 

He needed space, didn't he? That was all he was trying to give his son.

"No...no, we can't, father." His voice breaks with the thought of never seeing his friend ever again.

"Thranduil..." Oropher looks at him. So blue. But it's a pale blue, not vibrant like the way his soul was stained. "A change of...surroundings might do you some good."

This isn't about your job at all, Thranduil thinks bitterly. "We're not leaving." He stands up, plants his palms on the table in frustration when his father simply turns away.

He walks out of the kitchen, hoping and praying Thranduil will only see that he wants the best for him, and he somehow gets the last word with even having to say anything.

It makes red blind Thranduil and he screams, throwing his glass of water onto the floor and watching it shatter around him like his world.

 

•••••••••

 

"So what's going on?"

Thranduil huffs as he blows a strand of hair out of his face, annoyed he didn't catch it when he threw his hair back in a messy ponytail that morning.

"Your father said you haven't been eating."

Thranduil wants to laugh. Now he notices? 

"He's worried." A sigh. "I'm worried, Thranduil."

Quiet.

"He told me again about how you're talking about...your friend."

Black. It's quick to stain his tongue.

"Thranduil....you know Legolas isn't--"

"But he is!" Thranduil shouts. 

Maybe it's the fact that he left Legolas alone after his outburst and feels bad about unloading on his friend in such a violent manner. Maybe it's the fact that he hasn't seen Legolas for two weeks now and he feels like his heart's ripped in two. Whatever spurs him to yell also inspired him to throw the chair he's sitting on across the wall. Only to stop the laughing.

Fuck, the laughing.

It's what echoes in his ears at night. The judgmental chortles and giggles that are seared into his brain. Private school was such a mistake. Then again, who wouldn't laugh at a boy who was complaining about tastes of colors?

Dr. Bowman is laughing at him. His father is laughing at him. 

For all he knows, Legolas could be laughing right that instant.

"He's real and I'm not leaving him!" He screams.

It drives him to fall to his knees, dig his sharp fingernails into his arms and let out an animalistic scream.

 

••••••

 

The blurry faces and voices that swirl with colors. They disturb him to no end.

He's so cold.

 

••••••

 

Just make it stop.

 

•••••••

 

It's a week before he's released from the hospital. He hears Dr. Bowman talk about the need to send him to a nut house.

Huh. Predictable.

He hears how his father breaks down when he's told he only has a week left to spend with him at home.

Maybe they wouldn't have postponed his sending if they knew that Oropher would be gone to work from 5 AM until the dead hours of the night, just to try to pretend that everything was normal, that his only child's brain wasn't fucked up.

 

••••••••

 

It's the last day of Thranduil's stay at home, and that's when he breaks.

He just wants to see Legolas one last time.

He goes to the ocean pier, but instead of sitting and waiting, he walks by the beach, the cold water rushing over his bare feet.

'Just look at the water with your heart. You'll see me there.'

Thranduil gazes at the waves, completely focused in finding his only friend that he doesn't realize how the water continues to climb up his legs.

He's walking deeper and deeper, looking into the sparkling water that reminds him so much of Legolas' eyes.

He begins seeing flashes of pink coral as he walks, intertwined with the sand and the emerald sea weed, and he misses the days when his heart was filled with coral instead of black.

He barely realizes when a wave washes over him, but he continues walking nonetheless, descending deeper and deeper into the ocean. He opens his mouth to call his friend's name, the desperation to see the boy growing more and more with every minute, but he only tastes salt and water.

He knows his heart will call louder than his voice ever will so he stops screaming underwater.

When he gets too tired to fight against the current, he lets go, the aching and cramping in his arms and legs getting the best of him.

He's still underwater, he notices, half-alive, as he tries to breathe and his lungs fill with water. 

Things are better this way, is his last, melancholy thought as he stares at the golden sun above the surface, shining brightly.

He remembers the warmth of it against his skin, the warmth of Legolas, and he doesn't feel so cold anymore.

 

•••••••

 

Three weeks later, his body washes onto the shore. If only he were there to hear his father sobbing and screaming like a mad man.

 

••••••

 

The funeral is quiet, attended by only his father and a few other distant family members who never even knew of him.

They bury him on the shore, knowing how much he loved the ocean.

A priest finishes his prayers over the boy who died too soon, and his voice is rough as he asks if anyone would like to say any words.

A boy who seems to be the ghost of the dead boy's younger self, with long golden hair that seem to be strands of sunlight pulled back in a loose braid, ocean-crystal eyes that sparkle like cerulean diamonds with tears, and creamy skin with light peach and pink undertones, stands up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave a kudo or comment down below?
> 
> Oh yeah..if thou art confused, Legolas is Thranduil's son who traveled back in time to meet him because he eventually...you know, dies.
> 
> I'm sorry if this was confusing...I'm still trying to get back into this fandom (someone shut the door when I left and I forgot my key, okay? And I'm sorry if you recognize this kind of plot line...you'll know why I'm not mentioning the story iT FRICKING DESTROYED MY LIFE AND MADE ME CRy FOR DAYS OKAY???)


End file.
